Stephen Mejias

Sort By: Post DateTitle Publish Date

Room Treatments

I’d like to give you a tour of my listening room. Please excuse the mess. I’ve been evaluating cables.

Because all the new LPs had started to take over the apartment, I was forced to do some rearranging. Over the last couple of weekends, I’ve managed to shape some order into my listening room. And order is very important to me. When my home is messy, my soul feels messy; and, when my soul feels messy, I become grouchy, lethargic, and I can’t get anything done.

A couple of other things have inspired this post. First, recent visits to friends’ warm and lovely apartments had me feeling like I’d neglected my own home. I want to invite these friends over, but, before I do, I have to feel sure that my home would feel comfortable and inviting, would speak from the walls, would have stories to share. Second, this recent post on Michael Lavorgna’s Twittering Machines was extremely fascinating and fun.

So, let me show you around.

Salon Son & Image

Back in the winter of 1999, just a few months before I started working for Stereophile, I took a month-long train trip. One of my first stops was in Montreal. I could not have spent more than three or four days there, but they were a very fulfilling and memorable three or four days.

Salon Son et Image Revisited

While John Atkinson, Art Dudley, Bob Deutsch, and I were having a great time roaming the halls of the 2010 Salon Son et Image at the Hilton Bonaventure in beautiful Montreal, Francois Caron of The">http://thecanadianpublic.com/">The Canadian Public was lugging a Canon Vixia HF200 camcorder and Rode Stereo Videomic from exhibitor room to exhibitor room, capturing the action.

Salsa Means Soul

I've mentioned my insecurities and low self-esteem, told you of how I often feel so out of place and inferior. Whether in my personal relationships or professional duties, I can overwhelm myself into paralysis and depression with the idea that there is someone better suited for my life, that I do not belong where I am, that I am simply not good enough. It's a problem. But, considering that I was a red-headed white kid, growing up in the housing projects of Newark, within a large, Puerto Rican family who spoke a different language, and had an alcoholic father who cheated on my mom and often humiliated me, it's not too difficult to understand.

Advertisement
Advertisement
Advertisement